a  I  B  R.AR.Y 

OF   THE 

U  N  IVLRSITY 
OF    ILLINOIS 

from 
Carl  Sandburg's  Library 

973.76V 
C69ur 


lUINIUS  HISTORICAL  SURVEY 


; 


A 

WOMAN'S  WAR  RECORD 
1861-1865 


BY 

SEPTIMA  M.  COLLIS 

(MRS.  GENL.    CHARLES    H.    T.   COLLIS) 


NEW  YORK  AND   LONDON 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S   SONS 


1889 


COPYRIGHT  BY 

SEPTIMA  M.  COLLIS 

1889 


Cbc  fmfcfcerbocfccr  press 

Electrotypcd  and  Printed  hy 
G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 


DEDICATION. 


TO   HER  WHOSE  TEACHINGS    AND    EXAMPLE  MOULDED  MY 
CHILDHOOD,  WHOSE  BLESSINGS  AND  WHOSE  PRAYERS 
FOLLOWED  AND  SUSTAINED  ME  IN  MATURE  LIFE, 
AND    WHOM    GOD    I    HOPE    WILL    SPARE    FOR 
MANY    AND    MANY    A    YEAR    THAT    I  MAY 
HAVE  TIME  TO  PAY  HER  A  TITHE  OF 
THE  GRATITUDE  AND  LOVE  I  OWE 
HER, — MY  DEAR  SWEET  MO- 
THER,— I  DEDICATE  THESE 
FEW  BRIEF  INCIDENTS 
OF  MY  ARMY  LIFE. 

JULY,  1889.  SEPTIMA  M.  COLLIS. 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

Septima  M.  Collis  .  .  .  Frontispiece 
A  Few  of  our  Zouaves  in  Camp.  Taken  in 

the  field,  1863 17 

Camp  of  H4thPenna.  Vols.  (Collis  Zouaves) 

near  Culpeper,  Va.,  1863-4  •  •  29 
An  Officers'  Mess,  Cook,  and  Chambermaid 

— Collis  Zouaves,  1863-4  .  .  33 

Genl.  George  G.  Meade,  Commanding  Army 

of  the  Potomac.     Taken  in  the  field, 

1863-4 39 

Genl.  Grant  and  Staff — City  Point,  1864-5. 

Taken  in  the  field  .  .  .  .49 
The  Field  Line  and  Staff  of  our  Regiment. 

Taken  in  front  of  Petersburg,  Va. — 

Before  the  fight  .  .  .  .  -53 
After  the  Battle  of  Petersburg,  Va.,  April, 

1865 57 


A  WOMAN'S  WAR  RECORD. 

BY  MRS.  GENERAL  CHARLES  H.  T.  COLLIS. 


I  have  no  hesitation  in  calling 
what  I  am  about  to  write  a  "war 
record,"  for  my  life  was  "twice  in 
jeopardy,"  as  will  be  seen  later  on, 
and  I  served  faithfully  as  a  volunteer, 
though  without  compensation,  dur- 
ing the  entire  war  of  the  Rebellion. 
It  is  true  I  was  not  in  the  ranks,  but 
I  was  at  the  front,  and  perhaps  had 
a  more  continuous  experience  of 
army  life  during  those  four  terribly 
eventful  years  than  any  other  woman 
of  the  North.  Born  in  Charleston, 
S.  C.,  my  sympathies  were  naturally 
with  the  South,  but  on  December  9, 
1 86 1,  I  became  a  Union  woman  by 


2     A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

marrying  a  Northern  soldier  in  Phila- 
delphia. The  romance  which  re- 
sulted in  this  desertion  to  the  enemy 
would  perhaps  interest  the  reader, 
yet  I  do  not  propose  to  tell  it ;  for  I 
am  sure  the  very  realistic  life  which 
it  enabled  me  to  experience  for  three 
winters  in  camp  at  army  head- 
quarters will  interest  him  more.  My 
first  commander  was  Gen.  Nathaniel 
P.  Banks,  to  whom  I  reported  on 
December  n,  1861,  at  Frederick, 
Md.,  where  my  bridegroom  was  then 
a  captain  of  an  independent  com- 
pany, which  he  named  and  equipped 
as  "  Zouaves  d'Afrique."  The  army 
being  in  winter  quarters,  a  general 
disposition  prevailed  among  officers 
and  men  to  make  the  season  pass 
merrily.  Though  the  war  had  by 
this  time  assumed  serious  propor- 
tions and  the  battle  of  Bull  Run  had 
been  fought,  yet  there  were  many 
who  still  believed  that  the  counsels 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.      3 

of  peace  and  forbearance  would  pre- 
vail and  that  the  conflict  would  be 
of  short  duration  ;  and  this  I  remem- 
ber was  the  daily  theme  of  discus- 
sion. Frederick  had  become  a  gar- 
risoned town,  every  train  bringing 
troops  and  supplies  ;  army  wagons 
and  their  four-mule  teams  had  pos- 
session of  the  streets,  while  the  side- 
walks and  shop  windows  were  monop- 
olized by  the  volunteer  officers  in 
their  bright  buttons  and  gold  lace, 
who  permitted  themselves  to  be  dis- 
turbed only  by  the  appearance  of  a 
pretty  face,  or  by  the  steady  tread  of 
the  patrol  with  their  white  gloves 
and  polished  rifles.  My  apartments 
in  Frederick  consisted  of  two  very 
modest  third-story  rooms,  sparsely 
furnished,  with  the  use  of  a  kitchen, 
at  a  cheap  rent,  for  we  neither  of  us 
had  any  money  ;  yet  we  indulged  in 
the  luxury  of  the  best  cook  in  the 
army,  no  other  than  Nunzio  Finelli 


4     A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

(one  of  our  zouaves),  who  was  after- 
wards the  steward  of  the  Union 
League  of  Philadelphia,  and  a  re- 
nowned restaurateur  in  the  same 
city.  Finelli  was  then  a  very  young 
man,  with  a  face  as  handsome  as  the 
famous  "  Neapolitan  boy "  in  the 
picture,  and  a  voice  as  sweet  and 
sympathetic  as  Brignoli's.  A  most 
obliging  disposition  and  a  fondness 
for  operatic  music  made  him  there- 
fore a  great  acquisition  to  our  little 
household, — and  many  an  omelette 
souffl6  was  first  beaten  into  snow- 
flakes,  while  the  dulcet  and  plaintive 
notes  of  "  Ah  che  la  morte "  or 
"  Spirito  gentil"  reaching  the  street, 
detained  the  spellbound  passers-by ; 
and  sometimes  when  his  friend  and 
compatriot,  Constantino  Calarisi  (an- 
other zouave),  joined  him  in  the 
kitchen,  we  were  treated  to  a  duet 
which  even  Patti  would  have  ap- 
plauded, for  they  were  both  very  re- 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.      5 

markable  singers.  Poor  Finelli !  a 
few  months  later  a  bullet  at  the  bat- 
tle of  Cedar  Mountain  terribly  dis- 
figured him,  and  when  I  next  saw 
him  the  shape  of  his  injured  nose 
reminded  me  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  Ghetto. 

That  winter  of  1861-2  will  be  re- 
membered in  Frederick  till  those 
who  enjoyed  its  "  spirit-stirring  drum 
and  piercing  fife "  by  day  and  its 
"  sound  of  revelry  by  night "  have 
passed  away.  There  were  the  swell 
Bostonians  of  the  Second  Massachu- 
setts Regiment,  the  Hortons,  Shaw, 
Quincy,  Choate,  and  others  whose 
names  but  not  their  handsome  faces 
now  escape  me,  and  whose  waltzing 
was  as  gallant  then  as  was  their  fight- 
ing afterwards  ;  and  there  were  the 
jovial  roysterers  of  "  the  Twelfth," 
who  from  Colonel  Fletcher  Webster 
(Daniel's  son)  down  to  the  humblest 
subaltern  could  find  in  every  deed  of 


6     A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

mischief  "  a  hand  to  resolve,"  "  a 
hand  to  contrive,"  and  a  "  hand  to 
execute  "  ;  and,  above  all,  giving  li- 
cense and  encouragement  to  the 
playful  side  of  the  soldier's  life,  but 
presiding  over  it  with  a  dignity  which 
would  brook  no  violation  of  dis- 
cipline or  decorum,  was  the  urbane 
and  genial  General  Banks.  Among 
the  ladies  who  spent  the  winter  with 
us  were  Mrs.  Banks,  Mrs.  Holabird, 
Mrs.  Abercrombie,  Mrs.  Copeland, 
and  Mrs.  Scheffler,  the  wife  of  one  of 
those  German  staff  officers  who  had 
come  over  to  teach  our  officers  the 
art  of  war,  but  who  went  back  home 
with  improved  educations.  Mrs. 
Scheffler  was  a  charming  woman, 
thoroughly  naive,  but  could  not  speak 
a  word  of  English,  and  depended 
much  upon  me  as  her  interpreter. 
Upon  one  occasion,  in  General  Banks' 
presence,  she  was  fluently  expressing 
to  me  her  views  in  very  compliment- 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.      7 

ary  terms  regarding  his  personal  ap- 
pearance, when,  to  her  horror,  the 
General,  laughing  heartily,  thanked 
her  in  a  very  excellent  specimen  of 
her  native  tongue,  and  we  then 
learned  for  the  first  time,  and  to  our 
discomfiture,  that  the  General  was, 
besides  his  other  accomplishments, 
an  excellent  German  scholar.  Of 
those  ladies  who  were  residents  of 
Frederick  and  contributed  to  the 
general  joy,  I  remember  the  names 
of  Cooper,  Maltby,  Schley,  McPher- 
son,  Goldsborough,  and  Shriver. 
There  were  dress  parades  of  regi- 
ments and  imposing  reviews  of  bri- 
gades and  divisions  whenever  the 
weather  would  permit,  and  to  these 
we  women  cantered  in  the  saddle, 
and  stood  beside  the  generals  while 
the  troops  marched  by  in  their  pic- 
turesque uniforms  to  splendid  music, 
for  at  this  time  every  regiment  had 
its  special  uniform  and  a  brass  band, 


8     A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

all  of  which  had  changed  when  I 
witnessed  the  grand  review  in  Wash- 
ington at  the  close  of  the  war,  where 
all  were  dressed  in  blue,  regiments 
had  been  thinned  down  to  companies, 
and  bands  of  music  were  few  and  far 
between.  It  seems  to  me  that  every 
Union  citizen  of  Frederick  gave  a 
ball  or  some  other  entertainment  that 
winter,  and  many  of  the  regiments 
returned  the  courtesy  by  such  im- 
provised hospitality  as  the  scanty 
accommodations  of  the  camp  would 
afford. 

Even  thus  early  in  the  campaign  I 
came  near  losing  my  life.  While 
crossing  a  ford  of  the  Monocacy 
River  in  a  light  wagon  which  my 
husband  was  driving,  we  suddenly 
became  aware  that  the  heavy  rains 
had  raised  the  stream  to  a  torrent, 
and,  it  being  almost  dark,  we  lost 
our  way  in  mid  stream.  If  you  have 
never  been  in  a  wagon  in  a  river 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.      9 

when  the  water  became  so  deep  that 
your  horse  commenced  to  swim,  you 
can  have  no  proper  appreciation 
of  my  sensations.  To  this  day  I 
hardly  know  how  we  escaped,  but  I 
remember  the  soldiers  on  the  far-off 
bank  of  the  stream  shouting  to  us 
and  preparing  to  leap  in  to  our  res- 
cue when  our  wagon  should  overturn, 
which  seemed  inevitable.  It  kept  its 
equilibrium,  however,  and  our  horse 
was  wheeled  around  and  found  a 
footing,  where  we  remained  until  the 
gallant  boys  in  blue  waded  waist 
high  to  our  relief. 

The  piece  de  resistance  of  the  sea- 
son, in  the  way  of  amusement,  was  a 
ball  given  by  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Malt- 
by,  who  lived  in  the  suburbs  of  the 
town.  The  Colonel,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  then  commanded  a  Maryland 
regiment  or  brigade.  Their  very 
large  and  well  appointed  residence 
was  admirably  adapted  to  gratify  the 


io  A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

desire  of  our  hostess  to  make  the 
occasion  a  memorable  one ;  the  im- 
mense hall  served  as  the  ballroom  ; 
the  staircases  afforded  ample  sitting 
room  for  those  who  did  not  partici- 
pate in,  or  desired  to  rest  from,  the 
merry  whirl,  while  the  ante-rooms 
presented  the  most  bountiful  op- 
.portunities  of  quenching  thirst  or 
appeasing  appetite.  I  shall  never 
forget  one  little  French  lieutenant 
who  divided  his  time  with  precise 
irregularity  between  the  dance  and 
the  punch-bowl,  and  whose  dangling 
sabre,  in  its  revolutions  in  the  waltz, 
left  as  many  impressions  upon  friends 
as  it  ever  did  upon  foes ;  yet  it  had 
the  happy  effect  of  giving  the  gen- 
tleman and  his  partner  full  posses- 
sion of  the  field,  whenever  he  could 
prevail  upon  some  enterprising  spin- 
ster to  join  him  in  cutting  a  swath 
through  the  crowd.  Perhaps  never 
did  grim  War  appear  to  smooth  his 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    1 1 

wrinkled  front  and  yield  himself  to 
the  divertissement  of  the  hour  as  he 
did  in  this  charming  town  in  that 
memorable  winter,  yet  he  was  really 
marshalling  his  hosts  for  the  deadly 
combat  which  was  to  open  in  the 
spring.  Alas !  how  soon  it  came  !  On 
Washington's  birthday,  by  express 
command  of  President  Lincoln  (who 
was  chafing  under  the  tardiness  of  our 
generals),  the  army  of  which  my  hus- 
band and  his  hundred  zouaves  were 
a  part,  crossed  the  Potomac  River 
at  Harper's  Ferry,  and  we  poor 
women,  who  would  willingly  have 
followed,  were  ordered  home. 

Extraordinary  as  it  may  appear,  I 
did  not  fully  realize  that  we  were  in 
the  midst  of  a  great  war  until  I  re- 
turned to  Philadelphia.  In  camp  the 
constant  round  of  pleasurable  excite- 
ment and  the  general  belief  that  hos- 
tilities would  be  of  short  duration 
presented  a  bright  picture  without  a 


12   A  Woman's  War  Record. 

sombre  shadow,  and  as  we  bade  our 
loved  ones  adieu  we  had  few  misgiv- 
ings for  their  safe  return.  But  at 
home  all  was  bustle  and  excitement ; 
a  dozen  large  stores  on  Chestnut 
Street  had  become  recruiting  sta- 
tions;  public  meetings  were  being 
held  every  night  to  encourage  enlist- 
ment; politicians  were  shouting: 
"  On  to  Richmond  !  " ;  young  girls 
were  declaring  they  would  never 
engage  themselves  to  a  man  who  re- 
fused to  fight  for  his  country,  and 
the  fife  and  drum  were  heard  morn- 
ing, noon,  and  night.  Yes,  indeed, 
we  realized  what  war  meant  then 
much  more  than  we  had  when  among 
the  light-hearted  soldiers  in  the  field. 
The  Girard  House  had,  for  the  time 
being,  been  converted  from  a  fash- 
ionable hotel  into  a  vast  workshop, 
where  the  jingle  of  the  sewing- 
machine  and  the  chatter  of  the 
sewing  girl,  daytime,  nighttime,  and 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    1 3 

Sundays  gave  evidence  that  the  gov- 
ernment was  in  earnest.  Every 
woman  who  could  use  her  needle 
found  employment,  and  those  who 
did  not  need  compensation  worked  al- 
most as  assiduously.  About  this  time 
some  well  meaning  woman  discovered 
that  General  Havelock  had  provided 
his  troops  in  India  with  a  cotton  cap- 
cover  and  neck-protector  to  shield 
them  from  the  sun  of  the  tropics, 
and  the  manufacture  of  "  havelocks  " 
became  the  ruling  mania  of  the  hour. 
The  sewing  societies  made  nothing 
but  havelocks ;  the  shop  windows 
were  full  of  them,  and  the  poor  fel- 
lows in  the  army  were  so  inundated 
with  them  that  those  who  had  the 
fewest  relatives  and  sweethearts  were 
much  the  best  off. 

Vague  rumors  reached  Philadelphia 
in  the  early  summer  of  1862  that  Gen- 
eral Banks'  army  had  had  several  day's 
severe  fighting  with  Stonewall  Jack- 


14  A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

son,  and  had  been  defeated,  and  the 
tension  to  which  our  nerves  were 
wrought  in  our  restless  anxiety  for 
fuller  news  was  terrible.  Upon  one 
of  those  ever  memorable  days  I  had 
great  difficulty  in  procuring  my  fav- 
orite newspaper,  and  was  compelled 
to  gather  what  meagre  intelligence  I 
could  from  other  sources.  It  was  not 
until  some  time  afterwards  that  I 
learned  that  the  newspaper  had  been 
purposely  kept  from  me.  It  con- 
tained a  message  from  General  Banks 
himself  to  the  Secretary  of  War,  in 
which  he  said  "  Captain  Collis  and 
his  company  of  Zouaves  d'Afrique 
were  taken  prisoners,"  while  an  en- 
terprising correspondent  of  the  same 
paper  reported  that  they  had  been 
"  cut  to  pieces."  My  husband,  how- 
ever, turned  up  all  right.  He  had 
covered  the  retreat  of  the  army,  and, 
being  cut  off  by  the  enemy,  found 
his  way  with  his  zouaves  through  the 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    1 5 

mountains  of  West  Virginia  to  the 
Upper  Potomac.  My  friends — and 
thank  Heaven  I  had  some  good  and 
tried  ones  (among  them  a  judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  State, 
whose  portrait  will  always  find  as 
choice  a  place  in  my  home  as  his 
memory  does  in  my  heart) — brought 
me  the  glad  intelligence  at  midnight, 
and  shortly  afterwards  Mr.  Collis  was 
ordered  to  Philadelphia  to  increase 
his  command  from  a  company  to  a 
regiment.  Thus  sooner  than  I  ex- 
pected, my  camp  life  was  resumed  ; 
but  instead  of  Frederick,  Md.,  with 
its  dances  and  routes,  I  found  my 
husband  hard  at  work  enlisting  men 
in  the  city  in  the  morning,  and 
drilling  them  in  Germantown  in  the 
afternoon,  where  he  had  a  charming 
camp,  which  he  retained  until,  with 
a  thousand  men,  early  in  August 
of  the  same  year,  he  once  more 
returned  to  the  field.  Antietam, 


1 6  A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

Fredericksburg,  Burnside's  muddy 
march,  now  came  on  in  quick  suc- 
cession, and  my  husband  was  kept 
so  busy  with  his  enlarged  command, 
that  although  he  gladly  allowed 
others  a  leave  of  absence,  he  hesitated 
to  leave  the  front  himself.  The 
suspense  in  these  days  was  some- 
thing dreadful — at  times,  letters  ar- 
rived quite  regularly,  and  then  there 
followed  the  long  silence  and  the 
great  anxiety,  for  we  knew  when  our 
letters  failed  us  that  "  the  army  was 
moving."  Things  were  very  expen- 
sive too,  especially  the  necessaries  of 
life ;  common  muslin,  I  remember, 
which  is  now  ten  cents  a  yard,  then 
cost  a  dollar,  and  the  pay  of  an 
officer  was  very  small  with  gold  at  an 
enormous  premium,  so  that  after  he 
had  paid  for  his  "  mess "  and  his 
servant  there  was  little  left  for  his 
family  at  home,  though  he  sent  them 
every  dollar  he  could  spare. 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    1 7 

What  better  illustration  of  the 
abnormal  condition  of  society  in 
those  days  can  be  given  than  a  state- 
ment of  the  fact  that  my  daughter 
was  born  on  September  25,  1862,  and 
that  her  father,  although  within 
twelve  hours'  reach  of  us,  did  not  see 
her  until  June,  1863  ; — and  he  would 
not  have  seen  her  then,  but  that  he 
was  brought  home,  it  was  believed, 
to  die.  Careful  nursing  and  desper- 
ate fighting  by  myself  and  one  or 
two  faithful  allies  restored  him  soon 
to  health,  and  he  returned  to  the 
front, — to  find  himself  at  twenty-five 
years  of  age  in  command  of  a  bri- 
gade. This  promotion  was  of  course 
gratifying  to  my  pride,  but  how 
much  more  did  I  value  it  when  I 
learned  that  brigade  commanders 
could  have  their  wives  with  them  in 
camp  during  the  winter,  while  the 
unfortunate  officers  below  that  rank 
could  not.  Yet  with  all  my  joy  at 


1 8  A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

God's  mercy  to  me,  some  days  came 
to  me  laden  with  great  sorrow.  My 
brother,  David  Cardoza  Levy,  a 
handsome,  gallant  lieutenant  in  the 
Southern  army  commanded  by  Gen- 
eral Bragg,  was  about  this  time 
killed  at  the  battle  of  Murfreesbor- 
ough  ;  seen  by  his  companions  to 
fall,  his  remains  were  never  after- 
wards found,  though  General  Rose- 
crans,  to  oblige  my  husband,  made 
every  effort  to  discover  them.  He 
lies  to-day,  God  only  knows  where. 

"  Without  a  grave,   unknelled,  uncoffined,  and 
unknown." 

This  was  the  horrible  episode  of 
the  civil  war  to  me,  and  although  I 
had  many  relatives  and  hosts  of 
friends  serving  under  the  Confeder- 
ate flag  all  the  time,  I  never  fully 
realized  the  fratricidal  character  of 
the  conflict  until  I  lost  my  idolized 
brother  Dave  of  the  Southern  army 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    19 

one  day,  and  was  nursing  my  North- 
ern husband  back  to  life  the  next. 

I  very  often  went  to  Washington 
while  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  was 
lying  along  the  Rappahannock  River, 
and  my  husband  would  manage  to 
run  up  for  a  few  hours  to  see  me. 
On  one  of  these  visits  I  was  presented 
to  President  Lincoln,  and  had  a  pri- 
vate audience.  I  shall  never  forget 
that  wonderful  man,  and  the  pres- 
sure of  the  immense  hand  which 
grasped  mine,  so  fervent,  true,  and 
hearty  was  his  manner.  I  was  very 
young,  and  was  dressed  in  such 
height  of  fashion  as  my  means  af- 
forded— and  how  strange  that  fashion 
seems  to  me  a  quarter  of  a  century 
later.  It  was  forenoon,  and  yet  my 
out-of-door  costume  consisted  of  a 
pale-pearl  silk  dress,  trimmed  with 
cherry  color,  immense  hoops,  and  a 
long  train,  such  as  is  now  very  rarely 
worn  even  in  "a  ballroom  ;  a  black 


2O   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

lace  shawl,  and  a  little  pearl-colored 
bonnet,  with  a  white  illusion  veil 
tied  in  a  tremendous  bow- under  my 
chin.  There  were  no  bustles  in  those 
days,  except  the  one  worn  under  the 
back-hair  to  support  the  chignon, 
which  was  more  commonly  called 
the  "  waterfall,"  and  though  our  fore- 
heads were  innocent  of  bangs  or 
crimps,  yet,  equally  absurd,  we 
twisted  our  hair  around  pliable  little 
cushions,  which  were  known  as  rats 
and  mice.  What  would  a  tailor- 
made  girl  think  if  she  ran  across  such 
an  outfit  on  Fifth  Avenue  to-day? 
JMr.  Lincoln  wore  a  dress  suit,  I  re- 
member, his  swallow-tailed  coat  being 
a  terrible  misfit,  and  it  puzzled  me 
very  much  to  tell  whether  his  shirt- 
collar  was  made  to  stand  up  or  to 
turn  down — it  was  doing  a  little  of 
both.  He  was  entirely  at  his  ease, 
and  impressed  me  as  being  pleased 
with  the  diversion  which  my  visit 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    2 1 

gave  him.  He  referred  in  compli- 
mentary terms  to  my  husband's 
services,  and  to  the  requests  of  his 
superior  officers  for  his  promotion  to 
Brigadier-General,  adding,  in  a  quaint 
and  earnest  way,  u  but  he  is  too 
young."  I  replied  promptly  :  "  He 
is  not  too  young  to  be  killed  in  the 
service,  and  make  me  a  widow." 
"  Well,"  said  he,  with  the  bonhomie 
of  a  courtier,  "  you  would  have  no 
trouble  in  finding  promotion  then" 
which,  for  Mr.  Lincoln,  was,  I  pre- 
sume, quite  a  flirtatious  remark.  Per- 
haps he  thought  that,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, I  might  agree  with 
Madame  de  Sevign6,  who  said  (with 
great  provocation,  it  is  true) :  "  Would 
to  God  we  were  born  widows."  While 
we  were  thus  chatting  pleasantly,  the 
door-keeper  handed  him  a  card  with 
a  woman's  name  upon  it,  and  whis- 
pered a  few  words  to  the  President  as 
he  was  putting  on  his  eye-glasses. 


22   A  Woman's  War  Record. 

Mr.  Lincoln  uttered  a  long  and  agon- 
izing sigh — perhaps  I  should  call  it  a 
groan, — and  then,  turning  to  me,  in 
a  tone  of  voice  as  full  of  sadness  as, 
d  moment  before  it  had  been  full  of 
mirth,  said :  "  This  poor  woman's 
son  is  to  be  shot  to-morrow."  I  con- 
fess I  was  so  overpowered  by  his  dis- 
tress that  I  had  hardly  the  strength 
to  speak,  but,  by  way  of  comfort,  I 
ventured  the  opinion  that  I  presumed 
such  things  were  inevitable  in  time 
of  war.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  slowly  and 
pensively,  as  he  threw  his  head  far 
back  and  pressed  his  brow  with  his 
hand,  "  that  's  so ;  but  there  's  so 
many  on  'em,  so  many  on  'em."  Of 
course  this  brought  our  interview  to 
a  close,  and  I  gave  way  to  the  broken- 
hearted mother,  who,  I  am  sure,  left 
that  great  presence  as  full  of  hope  as 
I  did  of  love  and  reverence  for  this 
remarkable  man.  I  never  again  saw 
him  until  I  met  him  at  City  Point, 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    2  3 

Va.,  a  few  days  before  the  assassina- 
tion.^ 

In  the  autumn  of  1863  I  received 
a  telegram  that  my  husband  was 
very  ill  with  pneumonia,  in  camp 
near  Culpeper,  Va.  Major-General 
Meade  happened  to  be  in  Philadel- 
phia at  the  time,  and  I  took  the  tele- 
gram to  him  and  begged  him  to  give 
me  a  pass  to  visit  the  army  at  once. 
There  existed  at  that  time  a  positive 
order  against  ladies  going  to  the 
front,  but  General  Meade,  whom  I 
had  known  intimately  for  many 
years,  made  an  exception  in  my  case, 
and  with  his  autograph  passport  I 
started  at  once,  leaving  my  baby  to 
the  tender  care  of  devoted  friends 

(the  Misses  C ),  whose  kindness 

in  this  emergency  I  shall  never  for- 
get. But  my  troubles  only  com- 
menced when  I  reached  Alexandria. 
Such  a  place  as  it  was  there — a  per- 
fect Bedlam  ;  all  confusion  ;  no  hotel 


24   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

(the  one  where  Col.  Ellsworth  had 
been  shot  being  then  used  as  a  hos- 
pital or  storehouse)  ;  the  muddy 
streets  thronged  with  lazy  negroes 
and  affrighted  cattle ;  wounded  sol- 
diers staring  with  amazement  at  the 
young  woman  in  civilized  attire  who 
seemed  to  have  dropped  among  them 
from  the  clouds,  I  suppose  ;  and 
drunken  recruits  and  conscripts  sing- 
ing ribald  songs.  But  for  the  ever- 
present  call  of  duty  which  impelled 
me  to  go  to  the  bedside  of  my  suffer- 
ing husband,  I  would  have  turned 
back,  as  Gen.  Meade  told  me  I 
would  ;  but  my  eyes  and  my  heart 
were  looking  southerly,  and  to  the 
south  I  was  determined  to  go  at  any 
risk.  My  life  has  not  been  without 
adventure  :  I  have  crossed  the  At- 
lantic a  dozen  times ;  have  been  in  a 
collision  in  mid-ocean,  and  will  carry 
to  my  grave  the  recollection  of  the 
agonizing  cries  of  the  drowning  vie- 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    25 

tims ;  have  stood  upon  the  crater  of 
Vesuvius  during  an  eruption  ;  have 
lived  in  a  railroad  construction  camp 
on  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with  its 
ruffians,  its  gamblers,  and  its  China- 
men ;  have  made  an  ascent  in  a  bal- 
loon ;  have  seen  a  Cinnamon  bear 
shot  within  fifty  yards  of  me ;  have 
for  nights  slept  upon  the  bare  floor 
of  an  isolated  log-hut  amidst  the 
geysers  of  the  Yellowstone  ;  have 
had  a  volley  of  rifle-balls  whistle 
around  my  ears ;  yet  never  in  my 
experience  did  my  heart  throb  as 
nervously  as  when  I  stood  alone  in 
the  streets  of  Alexandria  waiting  to 
be  lifted  into  a  cattle-train  which  was 
soon  to  start  for  the  army  at  Brandy 
Station,  near  Culpeper.  The  offi- 
cers who  had  charge  of  the  train 
remonstrated  with  me,  and  endeav- 
ored to  detain  me  with  the  promise 
that,  if  I  waited  an  hour  or  so,  I 
should  have  a  special  car.  Little  did 


26   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

they  know  the  woman  they  were 
dealing  with.  I  was  even  then  very 
decisive  and  quite  skeptical,  traits 
which  were  not  so  well  developed  as 
they  are  to-day.  In  the  first  place, 
I  knew  the  necessity  for  my  imme- 
diate presence  in  camp,  and,  in  the 
second,  I  did  n't  believe  a  word  in 
their  promise  that  I  would  be  any 
better  off  by  waiting.  So,  armed 
with  Gen.  Meade's  pass  and  a  deter- 
mined and  perhaps  petulant  will,  I 
was  lifted  into  a  dirty  cattle-car,  and 
sat,  not  on  a  lounge,  but  on  the  head 
of  a  barrel  amidst  the  soldiers,  who 
were  drinking,  smoking,  and  singing. 
They  were  not  in  any  way  rude,  but 
their  guns  were  all  loaded  and  while 
they  slept  and  snored  at  my  feet,  I 
feared  a  sudden  movement  would  set 
off  a  gun,  and  that  of  course  /  would 
be  the  victim.  I  did  n't  sleep  a 
wink ;  the  night  was  very  cold  but  I 
was  warmly  wrapped  up  and  cared 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    27 

less  for  my  discomfort  than  I  did  for 
the  snail's  pace  at  which  we  were 
travelling.  It  was  the  gray  of 
the  dawn  when  we  reached  Brandy 
Station,  where  a  staff-officer  with 
an  ambulance  met  me  and  took 
me  a  long  ride  to  the  house  of  Mr. 
Yancey,  where  I  found  my  husband 
in  a  comfortable  room,  being  well 
cared  for.  For  the  second  time  in 
twelve  months  I  became  an  army 
nurse,  but  it  took  all  my  skill  and 
watching  to  counteract  the  blunders 
of  the  so-called  army  surgeons.  The 
day  after  my  arrival  one  of  these 
incompetents  blistered  his  patient's 
chest  until  it  was  raw,  and  then 
made  a  plaster  of  cold  cream,  which 
he  carried  in  the  open  air  from  his 
tent  to  the  sick  chamber,  a  distance 
of  several  hundred  yards,  on  a  freez- 
ing cold  night,  and  clapped  it  on 
the  patient's  burning  and  lacerated 
flesh.  It  must  have  been  like  the 


28    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

shock  of  an  electric  battery,  for  the 
air  was  instantly  blue  with  language 
which  never  before  or  since  have  I 
heard  pass  my  husband's  lips,  and  he 
himself  was  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
sick  as  he  was,  hurling  the  plaster 
into  the  doctor's  face.  What  part  I 
took  in  the  scene  it  becomes  me 
better  to  leave  to  the  imagination  of 
those  who  know  me,  than  to  set 
down  in  print.  Let  it  suffice  that  his 
services  were  dispensed  with,  and 
General  French  sent  us  the  medical 
director  of  the  corps,  who  soon  had 
his  patient  fit  for  duty,  and  I  re- 
turned to  Philadelphia.  Yancey,  by 
the  by,  was  an  awful  rebel.  He 
prided  himself  that  he  had  never 
been  to  Washington  or  Richmond 
and  had  barely  heard  of  New  York 
and  Philadelphia.  "  I  Ve  alias  lived 
right  'round  Culpeppa  Sah  "  was  his 
daily  boast,  and  his  only  religion 
seemed  to  be  a  hatred  for  the  Yan- 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    29 

kees.  It  was  therefore  very  unfor- 
tunate that,  upon  the  execution  of 
the  order  that  all  persons  within  the 
lines  of  the  army  should  be  vacci- 
nated, some  impure  vaccine  matter, 
by  an  unforeseen  accident,  found  its 
way  into  Yancey's  blood,  or  else  that 
he  caught  cold,  for  he  had  a  terrible 
arm  and  was  laid  up  for  weeks,  thor- 
oughly convinced  that  he  had  been 
purposely  poisoned ;  and  if  he  is 
living  to-day  I  don't  doubt  that  he 
often  tells  the  story  of  the  Yankee 
effort  to  take  his  life. 

I  next  joined  the  army  on  Janu- 
ary i,  1864.  It  was  still  at  Brandy 
Station,  but  instead  of  Yancey's 
house  I  found  awaiting  my  arrival 
the  most  picturesque  home  I  have 
ever  lived  in  ;  it  will  ever  be  remem- 
bered as  one  of  the  brightest  sur- 
prises of  my  life.  Imagine  two  or- 
dinary army  tents,  set  close  together, 
one  of  them  for  a  parlor  and  dining- 


30   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

room,  the  other  for  a  bedroom  ;  both 
having  chimneys  of  mud  and  stone, 
presenting  fine  open  fireplaces  with 
real  mantel-pieces  on  the  inside  ;  the 
bedstead  was  of  plain  pine  timber, 
and  the  bedding  delicious,  sweet, 
clean  straw  sewed  up  in  sacks,  the 
whole  covered  with  a  layer  of  sev- 
eral brown  woollen  army  blankets  ; 
there  were,  of  course,  no  pillows  or 
pillow-cases,  a  couple  of  saddles  an- 
swered for  the  one,  and  I  presume 
imagination  had  to  do  service  for 
the  other ;  yet  we  were  supremely 
happy.  I  was  a  soldier,  and  these 
were  war  times,  and  I  prided  myself 
that  I  could  dispense  with  luxuries 
and  yet  be  comfortable.  [There  is 
no  woman  who  can,  better  than  I, 
enjoy  beautiful  surroundings,  and 
who  absolutely  craves  all  the  exqui- 
site luxe  that  is  obtainable,  or  can 
sleep  more  deliciously  under  the 
light,  warm,  silken  eider-down,  but  it 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    3 1 

is  a  great  satisfaction  that  these  war 
experiences  have  fitted  me  to  climb 
a  mountain,  sleep  upon  a  bare  floor, 
or  ride  twenty  miles  in  a  rain  storm, 
and  overcome  situations  which, 
without  them,  I  never  would  have 
surmounted.]  But  it  was  bitterly 
cold  sometimes  that  winter  in 
these  canvas  houses,  and  I  did 
not  dare  leave  my  bed  in  the 
mornings  until  our  man,  who  was 
maid-of-all-work,  built  a  great  big  log 
fire  and  literally  drove  us  out  of  bed 
with  the  heat.  And,  oh  !  what  a 
grandiose  parlor  did  I  step  into  for 
breakfast  the  first  morning  I  was 
there,  with  its  works  of  art  cut  from 
the  illustrated  newspapers  of  the 
day,  framed  with  strips  of  red  flan- 
nel, while  on  my  mantel  were  spread 
varieties  of  bonbons  imported  ex- 
pressly from  Washington  to  cele- 
brate my  arrival.  Our  table  ser- 
vice was  of  pure  tin,  washed  and 


32    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

burnished  with  sand  and  water 
after  every  meal,  and  because  our 
spoons  were  of  the  same  material 
our  soup  was  not  a  jot  the  less 
savory ;  as  we  seldom  indulged  in 
French  peas  our  two-pronged  forks 
answered  every  purpose,  and  as  I 
occasionally  managed  to  borrow  a 
table-cloth  and  sometimes  a  napkin 
from  our  neighbor  Yancey,  our  little 
tete-a-tete  dinners  were  quite  recher- 
che', considering  the  surroundings. 
But  my  habitation  was  a  gem, 
worthy  a  place  in  any  collection  of 
"  Happy  Homes."  When,  however, 
my  baby  daughter  and  her  nurse 
joined  me  I  gave  up  my  "  open-air  " 
life  and  returned  to  the  Yancey 
mansion,  where  I  remained  until 
General  Grant,  fresh  from  his  marvel- 
lous victories  in  the  West,  came 
among  us  and  made  preparations  for 
his  advance  to  Richmond. 

During   this   winter  the  different 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.   33 

head-quarters  were  very  gay,  and 
we  wives  who  were  so  fortunate  as 
to  be  with  our  husbands,  instead  of 
spending  our  time  alone  and  anxious 
at  home,  had  plenty  of  enjoyment. 
Of  course,  the  officers  were  con- 
stantly inventing  new  schemes  of 
divertissement.  What  with  dinners, 
balls,  reviews,  races,  and  cavalcades, 
we  had  few  idle  moments.  I  was  an 
excellent  and  fearless  rider,  owning 
my  own  saddle  and  borrowing  my 
mount.  It  was  no  uncommon  thing 
for  me  to  ride  from  our  camp  to  the 
head-quarters  of  General  Meade,  a 
distance  of  twenty  miles,  and  return 
home  to  dinner  in  the  evening ;  and 
more  than  once  I  came  to  grief,  al- 
ways, of  course,  through  the  fault 
of  my  horse  and  not  of  his  rider  (?). 
I  pleasantly  remember  one  or  two 
visits  to  Hon.  John  Minor  Botts  and 
his  family,  whose  residence  was 
within  our  camp. 


34   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

It  was  during  this  winter  that  the 
Fifth  Corps,  commanded  by  Major- 
General  Warren,  gave  a  magnificent 
ball,  quite  unique  as  to  decorations, 
etc.  The  ballroom  consisted  of  sev- 
eral hospital  tents,  and  the  banquet 
hall  of  another.  These  were  all 
smoothly  floored ;  there  were  sev- 
eral bands,  so  that  the  music  was 
continuous  ;  highly  polished  rifles  in 
ornamental  groups ;  bright  brass 
cannon,  lots  of  drums,  and  a  sea  of 
bunting  ;  the  whole  illuminated  with 
clusters  of  wax  candles  and  Chinese 
lanterns.  The  handsome  uniforms 
of  the  officers,  to  say  nothing  of 
their  handsome  faces  -and  figures ; 
the  clashing  of  their  sabres,  the 
jingle  of  their  spurs,  and  the  uni- 
versal expression  upon  every  face 
and  in  every  gesture  to  "  be  merry 
while  we  may,"  made  it  a  scene  of 
enchantment  which  was  to  me  so 
novel  and  so  suited  to  my  years  and 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    35 

my  tastes  that  I  consider  it  a  great 
privilege  to  have  been  a  part  of  it. 

Of  course  I  received  a  great  deal 
of  attention.  I  expected  it,  and  I 
was  not  disappointed,  and  I  confess 
that  during  those  exhilarating  hours 
I  don't  believe  a  thought  ever  en- 
tered my  mind  that  many  of  these 
splendid  fellows  were  dancing  their 
last  waltz,  and  I  am  very  sure  such 
gloomy  forebodings  never  entered 
theirs  ;  no,  it  was 

"A  very  merry,  dancing,  drinking, 
Laughing,  quaffing,  and  unthinking  time." 

Indeed,  it  was  "  unthinking."  Well 
do  I  remember  expressing  my  sym- 
pathy to  a  very  distinguished  cav- 
alry general  for  the  loss  of  his  only 
son  ;  to  which  the  gallant  sabreur 
responded :  "  Yes,  madame,  very 
sad !  very  sad  !  he  was  the  last  of 
his  race !  Do  you  waltz  ? "  and 
away  he  went  to  the  exhilarating 


36   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

music  of  a  dashing  galop,  leaving  all 
melancholy  far  behind  him.  The 
very  superb  supper  and  the  waiters, 
I  remember,  came  from  Washington, 
and  an  express-train  brought  an  im- 
mense number  of  fashionable  people 
from  the  North.  The  costumes  of 
the  women  were  superb,  quite  as 
elegant  and  elaborate  as  displayed 
at  any  similar  entertainment  in  city 
life.  The  beautiful  Miss  Kate  Chase 
was  the  acknowledged  belle  of  the 
occasion.  The  ball  did  not  break 
up  until  near  morning,  and  then  we 
poor,  tired  women,  in  all  our  finery, 
were  distributed  to  our  respective 
tented  homes  in  ambulances  and 
army  wagons,  and  as  we  meandered 
through  the  little  canvas  villages, 
with  their  smouldering  fires  and 
"  fixed  sentinels,"  the  serious  aspect 
of  the  epoch  chased  away  the  merry 
memory  of  mirth. 

The  winter  of    1864-5   I   passed 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    3  7 

at  City  Point,  Va.,  the  head-quarters 
of  General  Grant.  At  first  we  lived 
in  tents,  but  later,  when  my  hus- 
band became  commander  of  the  post, 
I  lived  most  comfortably  in  a  house. 
These  were  the  months  immediately 
preceding  the  close  of  the  war,  and 
were  the  most  interesting,  full  of 
excitement  and  stirring  events.  I 
had  my  little  daughter  with  me,  and 
we  occupied  a  very  cosy  farm-house, 
where  for  the  first  time  in  my  army 
life  I  had  female  servants,  one  of 
whom  was  an  old  colored  woman  I 
found  on  the  premises,  and  she  did 
most  excellent  service  as  cook  and 
maid-of-all-work.  In  real  Southern 
style  we  called  her  "  Aunty  "  Miran- 
da. Being  a  particularly  crisp,  dry 
winter,  I  was  constantly  in  the  sad- 
dle, galloping  to  the  different  head- 
quarters, and  stopping  on  the  way 
now  and  then  to  visit  Generals 
Meade,  Burnside,  Hancock,-  and 


38   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

other  conspicuous  men  of  that  day, 
all  of  whom  I  knew  well,  but,  alas ! 
nothing  of  whom  now  remains  but 
their  fame.  The  army  was  then  lying 
in  the  trenches  around  Petersburg. 
General  Meade's  camp  was  beauti- 
fully situated  some  miles  from  City 
Point  upon  a  knoll  which  had  once 
been  a  pine  grove,  but  the  timber 
had  been  cut  down  and  up  for  fire- 
wood, leaving  nothing  but  a  barren 
array  of  tents.  Upon  his  staff  were 
the  hard-working  Seth  Williams ; 
General  Hunt,  who  I  saw  recently  at 
Gettysburg,  very  little  changed  in 
appearance,  and  not  at  all  changed 
in  genial  manner  and  urbanity,  yet 
who  has  since  joined  his  departed 
comrades  ;  Colonel  Biddle,  of  Phila- 
delphia, ever  in  good  spirits;  the 
gallant  Captain  Cadwalader,  of  the 
same  city,  and  young  George  Meade 
then  a  mere  lad.  General  Burnside 
was  encamped  in  quite  a  picturesque 


GENL.  GEORGE   G.  MEADE,  COMMANDING   ARMY    OF   THE 
POTOMAC.       TAKEN    IN   THE    FIELD,   1863-4. 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.  39 

ever-green  enclosure,  and  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  staff  carefully  selected 
from  the  choicest  of  Rhode-Island's 
sons,  all  of  whom  had  distinguished 
themselves  on  many  hard-fought 
fields  ;  and  the  superb  Hancock,  still 
suffering  occasionally  from  his  Gettys- 
burg wound,  had  possession  of  a  farm- 
house, where,  from  what  I  could  see, 
he  was  well  cared  for  by  two  young 
Philadelphians,  Bingham  and  Parker, 
of  his  staff.  When  my  husband's 
duties  prevented  his  accompanying 
me  I  frequently  took  these  long 
rides  with  an  orderly,  well  mounted 
and  armed,  and  more  than  once  lost 
my  way  and  got  outside  the  lines. 
In  those  days,  however,  I  had  no  fear, 
for  I  had  a  notion  that  if  captured, 
being  a  Southern  woman,  I  would 
have  found  myself  among  friends. 
On  one  particular  road  I  was  sev- 
eral times  stopped  by  a  Union 
picket,  who  demanded  the  counter- 


40   A  Woman's  War  Record. 

sign,  which  I,  of  course,  did  not 
possess,  but  I  paid  little  heed  to 
the  demand,  excepting  to  make 
some  laughing  remark  to  the  effect 
that  "  I  commanded  a  brigade," 
or  was  "  Commander  of  the  Post," 
and  always  dashed  on.  My  order- 
ly, however  (David  Smith,  of  the 
I  I4th  Pennsylvania  Volunteers),  took 
alarm  and  admonished  me  that  I  was 
running  the  risk  of  being  shot  by 
some  stupid  sentinel,  who  might 
take  me  for  a  female  spy,  and  as  he 
peached  on  me  also  to  my  command- 
ing officer,  I  got  a  gentle  reprimand, 
which  compelled  me  to  abandon  my 
favorite  turnpike  in  the  future.  Our 
cuisine  at  City  Point  was  superb. 
Being  the  rendezvous  of  the  sutlers 
and  caterers  of  the  army,  we  natu- 
rally had  the  best  the  Northern 
markets  could  supply,  and,  of  course, 
an  abundance  of  turtle,  fish,  and 
oysters  from  the  James  River.  Mr. 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.  41 

Maltby,  now  the  proprietor  of  the 
Lafayette  Hotel  in  Philadelphia,  was 
enterprising  enough  to  erect  a  hotel, 
which  was  well  kept  and  well  patron- 
ized, and  the  camp  was  full  of  res- 
taurants and  oyster-houses,  but  the 
selling  of  intoxicating  beverages  was 
under  such  strict  surveillance  that 
there  was  rarely  a  case  of  drunken- 
ness, and  when  there  was,  the  pun- 
ishment of  one  night  in  the  "  bull 
pen/'  presided  over  by  Captain  Sav- 
age, was  worse  than  a  month  in  a 
house  of  correction. 

Speaking  of  the  "  bull  pen,"  that 
was  a  horrid  place.  Originally  the 
"  precincts  of  the  jail "  had  been 
confined  to  the  four  walls  of  a 
church,  but  as  the  number  of  prison- 
ers increased,  it  became  necessary  to 
make  a  large  enclosure  with  a  high 
board  fence,  but  with  only  the  sky 
(and  frequently  a  very  damp  sky)  for 
a  roof.  In  this  pigpen,  /  call  it,  in 


42    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

rain  and  snow  and  frost  I  have  seen 
hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  men 
huddled  together  without  a  particle 
of  shelter  or  protection  from  the 
elements — perhaps  there  was  no  help 
for  it, — at  all  events  its  horror  and  its 
odor  sicken  me  to  think  of,  even  a 
quarter  of  a  century  later,  and  as  I 
don't  like  to  write  about  it  I  will 
turn  to  something  pleasanter. 

Returning  one  evening,  just  at 
dusk,  from  one  of  our  long  horse- 
back rides,  Mr.  Collis  and  myself  were 
both  very  hungry,  and  a  life  among 
soldiers  having  made  me  somewhat 
indifferent  to  conventionalities,  I 
threw  a  dozen  James-River  oysters 
on  the  embers  of  my  wood  fire,  and 
threw  myself  on  the  floor;  got 
Aunty  Miranda  to  furnish  us  with 
butter,  pepper,  and  salt ;  rolled  up 
the  sleeves  of  my  riding  habit,  and 
was  in  the  act  of  devouring,  while 
my  husband  in  similar  pose,  was  in 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.  43 

the  act  of  opening,  the  succulent 
bivalves  when  I  heard  a  knock  at  the 
door,  and  in  response  to  my  "  come 
in,"  who  should  come  in  but  General 
and  Mrs.  Grant,  just  to  make  a  social 
call.  Consternation  is  hardly  the 
word  to  express  it.  Just  to  think  of 
it !  this  was  the  first  time  in  my 
grown-up  life  that  I  had  ever  eaten  a 
meal  in  that  position  (picnics  ex- 
cepted),  and  why  on  earth  should 
General  and  Mrs.  Grant  come  just  at 
that  moment.  How  I  got  up  and 
what  I  did  with  the  oysters  I  do  not 
know  and  never  shall,  but  I  do  know 
that  our  guests  enjoyed  the  situation 
heartily,  and  were  good  enough  to 
say  they  envied  us,  and  when  we 
apologized  for  the  tin  teapot  and 
pewter  spoons  which  adorned  the 
table  for  our  evening  meal,  the 
General  said  that  we  were  just  as 
well  off  as  he  was,  which  we  later 
found  to  be  the  fact  when  we  visited 


44   A  Woman's  War  Record. 

his  famous  log-cabin  (now  in  Fair- 
mount  Park),  though  before  the 
winter  closed  we  got  to  be  quite 
luxurious  with  our  white  china 
plates,  table-cloths,  and  even  napkins 
on  swell  occasions. 

My  husband  was  this  winter  kept 
busy  every  day  as  President  of 
a  court-martial  which  was  trying 
spies  and  deserters,  the  latter  being 
in  those  days,  I  remember,  called 
"  bounty-jumpers,"  that  is,  they  made 
it  a  business  to  enlist  in  the  North, 
receive  the  heavy  bounties — which, 
if  I  remember  rightly,  at  that  time 
amounted  to  upwards  of  a  thousand 
dollars, — and  then,  when  they  came 
to  the  army,  they  deserted  to  the 
enemy,  changed  their  clothing,  and 
came  back  as  rebels,  were  sent  North, 
again  escaped,  reenlisted  and  re- 
ceived another  bounty,  and  so  on. 
It  was  a  regular  business,  and  General 
Grant  became  so  incensed  when  he  dis- 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.  45 

covered  it  that  he  determined  to  end 
it.  As  the  result  of  the  trials  the 
leaders  were  all  shot,  and  the  others 
sentenced  to  long  terms  of  imprison- 
ment, and  I  believe  the  demoraliza- 
tion ceased.  Still  it  was  terrible  to 
see  these  poor  wretches  day  after 
day  manacled  with  ball-and-chain, 
going  in  and  out  of  the  court-room  ; 
my  heart  bled  for  them,  it  is  true, 
yet  I  was  told  that  the  safety  of  the 
army  depended  upon  their  summary 
punishment.  There  were  some  exe- 
cutions by  hanging,  also,  that  winter, 
for  crimes  of  a  more  heinous  char- 
acter, in  several  instances  of  negro 
teamsters,  and  although,  in  my  many 
rides,  I  tried  to  avoid  the  sight  of 
the  gallows,  they  would  occasionally 
loom  up.  After  each  execution  they 
were  kept  standing,  I  suppose,  as  a 
warning  to  other  malefactors.  Among 
the  deserters  who  were  tried  were 
many  young  foreigners  who  could 


46   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

not  speak  a  word  of  English,  but  as 
they  were  merely  the  tools  of  the 
leaders,  who  robbed  them  of  their 
bounties,  they  were  more  leniently 
dealt  with. 

One  of  the  incidents  of  this  winter 
was  a  visit  I  made  to  Dutch-Gap 
Canal,  which  was  nearly  completed  ; 
and  while  looking  across  the  river  at 
the  enemy,  our  party  was  vigorously 
fired  at  by  the  Southern  artillery, 
forcing  us  (there  were  one  or  two 
other  ladies  in  the  party)  to  huddle 
ourselves  with  the  soldiers  in  a  bomb- 
proof until  the  firing  ceased.  We 
then  scampered  at  a  lively  gait  for 
our  horses,  and  were  out  of  reach  as 
fast  as  their  hoofs  would  carry  us. 
I  was  quite  used,  however,  to  artil- 
lery-firing by  this  time,  though  I  had 
never  until  then  been  in  any  danger. 
Frequently,  when  I  heard  cannonad- 
ing, I  rode  out  beyond  the  Avery 
House  to  an  eminence  overlooking 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.  47 

the  town  of  Petersburg,  and  within 
perhaps  two  miles  of  it,  and  for 
hours  watched  the  "  bombs  bursting 
in  air,"  and  saw  wagon-loads  of  earth 
literally  ploughed  up  by  cannon-balls. 
Upon  another  momentous  occasion, 
all  the  ladies  in  camp  were  peremp- 
torily ordered  on  board  a  steamboat, 
which  immediately  steamed  down 
the  river  out  of  harm's  way,  among 
the  number  being  Mrs.  Grant  herself. 
A  rebel  gunboat  or  ram,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind,  had  forced  its  way 
down  the  river,  and  was  throwing 
shells  right  and  left  at  a  great  rate, 
creating  much  alarm.  The  firing 
lasted  all  day,  and  when  we  returned 
we  found  that  General  Grant's  head- 
quarters, on  the  bank  of  the  river,  had 
been  turned  into  a  fortress,  and  was 
mounted  with  heavy  guns.  It  ap- 
peared that  one  of  our  monitors  had 
retreated  upon  the  approach  of  the 
enemy's  vessel,  and  I  have  often 


48    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

heard  my  husband  relate  that  he  had 
never  seen  General  Grant  lose  his 
temper  excepting  upon  that  occasion, 
when  he  soundly  berated  the  naval 
officer  for  not  blowing  up  his  ship  or 
scuttling  her  in  the  channel  in  pref- 
erence to  endangering  the  lives  and 
valuable  stores  at  City  Point. 

In  the  midst  of  these  stirring 
events  a  terrible  anxiety  overcame 
me — my  child  commenced  ailing,  and 
her  disease  rapidly  developed  into 
scarlet-fever.  What,  however,  with 
the  skilful  treatment  of  Dr.  Dalton, 
of  Boston,  then  a  medical  director  in 
the  army,  and  of  an  excellent  army 
nurse,  in  a  few  weeks  she  was  out  of 
danger,  but  remained  in  delicate 
health  until  I  returned  to  Philadel- 
phia. I  mention  this  circumstance 
because  it  prolonged  my  stay  in  the 
army  long  after  all  other  ladies  had 
departed  for  home,  hence  my  unex- 
pected experiences  at  the  renewal  of 
hostilities  in  the  spring  of  1865. 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.   49 

It  was  on  the  memorable  second 
of  April,  1865  (Sunday),  about  day- 
light, that  my  husband  asked  me 
whether  I  would  not  like  to  jump  on 
my  horse  and  go  to  the  front  to  see 
a  battle,  which  he  felt  sure  would 
take  place  that  day ;  he  assured  me 
that  whatever  might  befall  him,  I 
would  not  be  in  the  slightest  danger. 
It  was  a  damp,  disagreeable  morning, 
and,  as  my  daughter  was  only  con- 
valescing, I  said :  "  No,  I  am  afraid 
to  leave  the  child."  Well !  I  slept 
on  ;  when  suddenly  I  heard  such  a 
roar  of  cannon  as  made  every  timber 
in  my  little  house  tremble  and  vibrate 
from  cellar  to  roof.  I  dressed  quick- 
ly, for  my  utter  ignorance  of  what 
was  going  on  made  me  imagine  all 
kinds  of  terrible  things,  and  the  hos- 
pital nurse  only  served  further  to 
demoralize  me,  exclaiming  every 
moment :  "  I  am  not  afraid,  but  we 
are  not  safe  here."  From  my  front- 
door I  distinctly  saw  the  flash  of  the 


50   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

cannon ;  and  twenty-four  eventful 
years  have  not  effaced  from  my 
memory  those  bursts  of  vivid  light- 
ning and  the  continuous  roar  of 
angry  thunder,  while  the  whole  air 
was  black  with  smoke  from  the  burn- 
ing tobacco-warehouses  in  Peters- 
burg. 

You  can  imagine  that  this  was  a 
day  to  me  of  great  anxiety.  I  looked 
out  upon  my  husband's  camp,  and 
found  it  was  deserted.  He  had  slipped 
away  with  his  brigade,  gone  to  the 
front,  and  I  had  not  known  it.  He 
preferred  that  I  should  not  know  it. 
City  Point  had  but  a  few  soldiers  left 
to  protect  the  government  stores,  and 
General  Grant's  head-quarters  were 
occupied  only  by  his  Adjutant-Gen- 
eral, Colonel  Bowers,  and  Mr.  Presi- 
dent Lincoln.*  I  got  immediately 
into  the  saddle,  and,  with  my  trusty 
orderly,  was  not  long  in  placing  my- 
self within  view  of  the  fighting.  The 

*  See  note,  page  78. 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.   5 1 

cannonading  was  dying  out,  but  the 
small-arms  kept  up  their  fusillade ; 
the  black  column  of  smoke  was  still 
steadily  ascending,  several  houses 
were  in  flames,  and  the  whole  town 
seemed  to  be  enshrouded  in  a  white 
vapor  cloud,  common,  I  suppose,  to 
all  battle-fields.  Ambulances  were 
coming  to  the  rear  laden  with  the 
unfortunate  wounded,  and  some  who 
were  not  wounded,  I  regret  to  say, 
were  also  facing  the  wrong  way ; 
and  of  these  cowards  I  was  deadly 
afraid,  always  changing  my  course  to 
avoid  them.  I  could  learn  nothing 
more  of  our  brigade,  than  that  they 
had  stormed  the  works  early  in  the 
morning,  had  been  successful,  and 
were  still  holding  them.  Evening 
came !  Night  came !  and  in  the 
shadow  of  the  doomed  city,  with  its 
glare  of  smouldering  ruins  lit  up  oc- 
casionally by  the  flash  from  a  cannon 
or  the  explosion  of  a  shell,  sat  two 


52    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

anxious  figures  on  horseback,  hoping 
against  hope  for  some  word  of  com- 
fort. Finally,  I  gave  it  up,  and  re- 
turned to  my  sick  child.  Was  I 
widowed  ?  Was  my  husband  lying 
in  the  trenches  suffering  from  some 
horrible  wound,  and  I  not  near  him  ? 
Oh,  what  an  anxious  night !  Colonel 
Bowers  and  Mr.  Lincoln  were  still  at 
City  Point.  I  could  only  learn  from 
them  that,  so  far,  our  army  had  been 
victorious,  but  they  knew  nothing  of 
what  I  wanted  most  to  hear.  The 
few  men  in  camp  were  in  high  glee, 
cheering  and  singing  and  lighting 
bonfires,  but  my  little  household 
knew  not  whether  to  be  joyous  or 
sad.  Ours  was  an  awful  suspense, 
which  seemed  an  eternity.  Day- 
light found  me  in  the  saddle  again, 
and  in  half  an  hour  I  was  at  the 
house  of  good  old  Mrs.  Bott,  whose 
property,  near  Petersburg,  my  hus- 
band had  always  carefully  protected, 


*  g 
g £ 


g 

o  |_ 

fa  < 

c  > 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    53 

and  from  whom  I  frequently  pur- 
chased butter  and  eggs.  If  my  hus- 
band was  alive  and  well,  I  knew  he 
would  stop  here  on  his  return,  just 
as  I  knew  he  would  expect  to  find 
me  there  awaiting  him.  Here  I 
learned  that  our  brigade  had  made  a 
desperate  charge,  and  that  Mr.  Col- 
lis'  own  regiment,  with  which  he  led 
the  assault,  had  suffered  severely, 
three  of  his  favorite  officers  having 
been  killed,  Captain  Eddy  and 
Lieutenants  Cunningham  and  Mar- 
ion, all  gallant  soldiers  who  had  risen 
from  the  ranks  of  his  old  "  indepen- 
dent "  company,  and  all  of  whom  on 
that  fatal  Sunday  morning  had  every 
reason  to  believe  that  the  war  was 
substantially  over,  and  that  they 
would  soon  return  to  their  homes. 
Poor  Captain  Eddy  I  saw  just  before 
he  died  ;  the  bullet  had  torn  away  a 
portion  of  his  skull,  and  he  never 
recovered  consciousness.  Oh,  how 


54   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

sickening,  in  these  days  of  peace, 
come  the  memories  of  those  ensan- 
guined hours  !  Learning  the  direc- 
tion in  which  the  brigade  was 
returning,  I  rode  on  at  a  rapid  pace, 
.  my  young  heart  full  of  gratitude  for 
God's  mercy  to  me  while  others  had 
been  made  to  so  severely  suffer, 
when  suddenly,  just  as  the  troops 
came  within  sight,  to  my  horror  I 
found  myself  in  the  midst  of  a 
shower  of  bullets,  whizzing  thick 
and  fast  around  my  ears  like  the 
buzzing  of  angry  wasps.  Only  the 
presence  of  mind  of  my  faithful  or- 
derly saved  my  life.  "  Follow  me," 
he  cried,  and,  in  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  write  it,  we  and  our  horses 
were  in  a  ravine  or  quarry  at  the 
road-side,  where  we  remained  until 
the  firing  had  ceased.  Was  it  the 
enemy  ?  Was  I  to  be  captured  ? 
After  all,  were  these  rebels  and  not 
Union  soldiers  whom  I  had  seen  as  I 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    55 

looked  through  the  strip  of  trees 
which  separated  us  ?  They  proved 
to  be  my  husband's  own  men,  firing 
into  the  timber  to  empty  their  loaded 
muskets,  and  thus  save  the  trouble  of 
drawing  the  loads.  I  will  not  repeat 
the  elegant  "  army  "  language  which 
my  spouse  used  on  that  occasion, 
but  I  assure  you  the  firing  promptly 
ceased,  and  he  galloped  up  to  receive 
my  congratulations  on  his  safety. 
But  he  was  a  sorry  sight,  literally 
covered  from  head  to  foot  with  cakes 
of  mud — his  high  top-boots  full  of  it, 
and  his  hair  matted  with  it.  His 
beautiful  white  horse,  which  he  could 
not  take  with  him  into  the  trenches, 
was  the  only  clean  thing  in  the  en- 
tire command.  The  brigade  had  lain 
literally  "  in  the  last  ditch "  the 
whole  night,  and  the  ditch,  he  told 
me,  had  six  inches  of  water  in  it. 

Quite  a  humorous  and  yet  pathetic 
incident    occurred    during  our  ride 


56    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

back.  We  overtook  a  negro  sol- 
dier very  badly  wounded  in  the 
arm,  but  marching  proudly  erect  to 
City  Point,  still  carrying  his  gun, 
cartridge-box,  and  haversack.  Mr. 
Collis  told  him  to  throw  these  en- 
cumbrances away,  but  he  refused, 
and  then  upon  being  ordered  to  do 
so,  begged  most  earnestly  to  be  per- 
mitted to  retain  them,  because,  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  I  don't  want  de  fel- 
lows at  de  hospital  to  mistake  me  for 
a  teamster."  We  were  soon  home 
and  in  camp,  and  having  eaten  a 
hearty  breakfast,  Mr.  Collis  donned 
his  only  remaining  suit  of  clothes 
and  by  direction  of  General  Grant 
started  for  Richmond,  which  had 
been  evacuated  by  Jefferson  Davis 
and  was  then  being  entered  by  our 
troops.  A  little  party  of  distin- 
guished sight-seers  had  just  come 
down  from  the  North,  little  antici- 
pating the  exciting  scenes  in  store 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    5  7 

for  them  ;  they  consisted  of  "  Prince" 
John  Van  Buren  and  his  charming 
daughter,  Mrs.  Stoughton  and  Gen- 
eral and  Colonel  Stoughton,  Mr.  Ar- 
thur Leary,  Mrs.  Paran  Stevens,  Miss 
Reed,  and  some  others  whose  names 
I  regret  to  have  forgotten.  It  did  not 
take  long  to  supply  the  entire  party 
with  horses,  saddles,  and  side-saddles, 
and  getting  aboard  a  steamer  in  the 
harbor,  we  went  as  far  up  the  river 
as  the  torpedoes  would  permit  (I 
think  the  place  was  called  Rockett's), 
and  then  rode  with  our  cavalry  escort 
right  into  the  city  of  Richmond, 
though  the  last  mile  was  in  a  drench- 
ing rain,  which  wet  us  all  to  the  skin. 
The  capital  of  the  Confederacy 
really  did  seem  evacuated,  and  save 
for  the  fact  that  every  now  and  then 
there  was  a  slamming  of  a  door  or 
shutter  with  an  unmistakable  em- 
phasis of  the  contempt  in  which  we 
were  held  by  the  lady  on  the  other 


58   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

side,  one  would  have  supposed  that 
the  inhabitants  had  entirely  aban- 
doned it.  Riding  at  a  quick  canter, 
we  did  not  rein  up  until  we  reached 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Davis  himself, 
where  we  found  some  of  the  colored 
servants  still  in  possession,  who 
received  us  with  civility  and  helped 
us  to  dry  our  clothes.  Having  done 
this  (to  a  certain  extent),  we  rode 
around  to  the  Capitol,  the  horrible 
and  filthy  Libby  Prison,  the  burning 
district,  and  other  places  of  interest 
and  returned  home  in  the  evening, 
quite  proud  of  the  fact  that  we  were 
the  first  Northern  women  to  enter  the 
beleaguered  city. 

While  the  people  of  the  North 
were  celebrating  with  guns  and  brass 
bands  and  bunting  the  capture  of 
Petersburg  and  the  evacuation  of 
Richmond,  while  every  loyal  city  was 
dressed  in  its  holiday  attire,  and  its 
inhabitants  were  intoxicated  with 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    59 

joy,  the  chain  of  events  at  City 
Point  "  all  of  which  I  saw,  and  part 
of  which  I  was,"  kept  me  still  within 
the  gloom  and  shadow  of  the  war, 
while  those  removed  from  its  actual 
presence  were  merry-making  in  the 
brilliance  of  the  victory.  City  Point 
became  one  vast  hospital  for  suffer- 
ing humanity.  As  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  from  the  door-step  of  my 
humble  home,  the  plain  was  dotted 
with  tents  which  were  rapidly  filled 
with  wounded  men,  Northern  and 
Southern,  white  and  black  without 
distinction  ;  army  surgeons,  and  vol- 
unteer physicians  just  arrived,  were 
kept  sleeplessly  at  work;  hospital 
nurses  and  the  good  Samaritans  of 
the  Sanitary  Commission,  laden  with 
comforts  for  the  sick  and  wounded, 
were  passing  to  and  fro,  and  amidst 
them  all  strode  the  tall  gaunt  figure 
of  Abraham  Lincoln,  his  moistened 
eyes  even  more  eloquent  than  the 


60   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

lips,  which  had  a  kindly  word  of 
cheer  for  every  sufferer.  \l  had  met 
Mr.  Lincoln  a  few  days  before  the 
crisis  of  which  I  am  writing  arrived, 
and  was  glad  to  know  that  he  re- 
membered me.  My  husband,  who 
was  present,  asked  him  en  passant 
how  long  he  intended  to  remain  with 
the  army  ;  "  Well,"  said  Mr.  Lincoln, 
with  as  much  caution  as  though  he 
were  being  interviewed  for  publica- 
tion, "  I  am  like  the  western  pioneer 
who  built  a  log  cabin.  When  he 
commenced  he  did  n't  know  how 
much  timber  he  would  need,  and 
when  he  had  finished,  he  did  n't  care 
how  much  he  had  used  up  "  ;  and 
then  added  with  a  merry  laugh :  "  So 
you  see  I  came  down  among  you 
without  any  definite  plans,  and 
when  I  go  home  I  sha'n't  regret  a 
moment  I  have  spent  with  you." 
About  this  time  a  very  touching 
incident  occurred,  which  serves,  as 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.  61 

well  as  any  anecdote  yet  told,  to 
illustrate  that  "charity  for  all  and 
malice  toward  none  "  were  not  mere 
"words"  with  Abraham  Lincoln, 
but  that  they  were  a  part  of  his  very 
nature  and  being. 

It  is  a  true  story,  told  only  once, 
in  the  initial  number  of  Once  a  Week, 
and  I  will  insert  it  here  in  my  hus- 
band's own  language. 

LINCOLN'S  MAGNANIMITY. 

BY   CHAS.  H.  T.  COLLIS. 

During  the  few  eventful  days  which 
immediately  preceded  the  fall  of  Rich- 
mond, Abraham  Lincoln  tarried  at  City 
Point,  Va.,  awaiting  the  news  from 
Grant,  Meade,  and  Sheridan,  who  were 
pulverizing  Lee's  right  wing,  while  Sher- 
man was  hurrying  his  victorious  column 
toward  Savannah.  Time  hung  wearily 
with  the  President,  and  as  he  walked 
through  the  hospitals  or  rode  amid  the 
tents,  his  rueful  countenance  bore  sad 


62    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

evidence  of  the  anxiety  and  anguish 
which  possessed  him.  Presently,  how- 
ever, squads,  and  then  hundreds,  and 
later  thousands  of  prisoners,  of  high  and 
low  degree,  came  from  the  front,  and 
we  all  began  to  realize,  from  what  we 
saw  of  their  condition,  and  what  the 
prisoners  themselves  told  us,  that  the 
Confederacy  was  crumbling  to  pieces. 

Among  the  captured  were  Generals 
Ewell,  Custis  Lee,  and  Barringer,  who 
became  the  guests  of  myself  and  wife,  I 
being  at  the  time  Commandant  of  the 
Post,  and  right  well  did  they  enjoy  the 
only  good  square  meal  that  had  glad- 
dened their  eyes  and  their  palates  for 
many  a  long  day. 

General  Barringer,  of  North  Carolina, 
was  the  first  to  arrive.  He  was  a  pol- 
ished, scholarly,  and  urbane  gentleman, 
scrupulously  regarding  the  parole  I  had 
exacted  from  him,  and  deeply  sensible 
and  appreciative  of  my  poor  efforts  to 
make  him  comfortable. 

Hearing  that  Mr.  Lincoln  was  at  City 
Point,  the  General  one  day  begged  me 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    63 

to  give  him  an  opportunity  to  see  him  as 
he  walked  or  rode  through  the  camp, 
and  happening  to  spend  that  evening 
with  the  President  in  the  tent  of  Colonel 
Bowers,  Grant's  Adjutant-General,  who 
had  remained  behind  to  keep  up  com- 
munication with  the  armies  operating 
across  the  James  River,  I  incidentally 
referred  to  the  request  of  General  Bar- 
ringer.  Mr.  Lincoln  immediately  asked 
me  to  present  his  compliments  to  the 
General,  and  to  say  he  would  like  very 
much  to  see  him,  whispering  to  me  in 
his  quaint  and  jocose  way  : 

"  Do  you  know  I  have  never  seen  a 
live  rebel  general  in  full  uniform." 

At  once  communicating  the  Presi- 
dent's wish  to  General  Barringer,  I 
found  that  officer  much  embarrassed. 
He  feared  I  had  overstepped  the  bounds 
of  propriety  in  mentioning  his  curiosity 
to  see  the  Northern  President,  and  that 
Mr.  Lincoln  would  think  him  a  very 
impertinent  fellow,  besides  which  he 
was  muddy,  and  tattered,  and  torn,  and 
not  at  all  presentable. 


64   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

Reassuring  him  as  best  I  could,  he  at 
last  sought  those  embellishments  which 
a  whisk,  a  blacking-brush,  and  a  comb 
provided,  and  we  walked  over  to  head- 
quarters, where  we  found  the  President 
in  high  feather,  listening  to  the  cheerful 
messages  from  Grant  at  the  front. 

I  formally  presented  General  Bar- 
ringer,  of  North  Carolina,  to  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  and  Mr. 
Lincoln  extended  his  hand,  warmly 
welcomed  him,  and  bade  him  be  seated. 
There  was,  however,  only  one  chair 
vacant  when  the  President  arose,  and 
this  the  Southerner  very  politely  de- 
clined to  take. 

This  left  the  two  men  facing  each 
other  in  the  centre  of  the  tent,  the  tall 
form  of  Mr.  Lincoln  almost  reaching  the 
ridge-pole.  He  slowly  removed  his  eye- 
glasses, looked  the  General  over  from 
head  to  foot,  and  then  in  a  slow,  medi- 
tative, and  puzzled  manner  inquired  : 

"  Barringer  ?  Barringer  ?  from  North 
Carolina  ?  Barringer  of  North  Carolina  ? 
General,  were  you  ever  in  Congress  ? " 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.   65 

"  No,  Mr.  Lincoln,  I  never  was,"  re- 
plied the  General. 

"  Well,  I  thought  not  ;  I  thought  my 
memory  could  n't  be  so  much  at  fault. 
But  there  was  a  Barringer  in  Congress 
with  me,  and  from  your  State  too  !  " 

"  That  was  my  brother,  sir,"  said  Bar- 
ringer. 

Up  to  this  moment  the  hard  face  of 
the  President  had  that  thoughtful, 
troubled  expression  with  which  those  of 
us  who  knew  him  were  only  too  familiar, 
but  now  the  lines  melted  away,  and  the 
eyes  and  the  tongue  both  laughed.  I 
cannot  describe  the  change,  though  I 
still  see  it  and  shall  never  forget  it.  It 
was  like  a  great  sudden  burst  of  sun- 
shine in  a  rain  storm. 

"  Well  !  well !  "  exclaimed  the  great 
and  good  man,  burying  for  the  moment 
all  thought  of  war,  its  cares,  its  asperi- 
ties, and  the  frightful  labor  it  had  im- 
posed upon  him  ;  his  heart  welling  up 
only  to  the  joyous  reminiscence  which 
the  meeting  brought  to  him. 

"Well !  well !"  said  he  ;  "do  you  know 


66   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

that  that  brother  of  yours  was  my  chum 
in  Congress.  Yes,  sir,  we  sat  at  the  same 
desk  and  ate  at  the  same  table.  He 
was  a  Whig  and  so  was  I.  He  was  my 
chum,  and  I  was  very  fond  of  him.  And 
you  are  his  brother,  eh  ?  Well  !  well  ! 
shake  again."  And  once  more  in  the 
pressure  of  his  great  big  hand  his  heart 
went  out  to  this  man  in  arms  against  the 
government,  simply  because  his  brother 
had  been  his  chum  and  was  a  good 
fellow. 

A  couple  more  chairs  by  this  time 
had  been  added  to  the  scant  furniture 
of  the  Adjutant-General's  tent,  and  the 
conversation  drifted  from  Mr.  Lincoln's 
anecdotes  of  the  pleasant  hours  he  and 
Barringer  had  spent  together,  to  the 
war,  thence  to  the  merits  of  military 
and  civil  leaders,  North  and  South, 
illustrated  here  and  there  by  some 
appropriate  story,  entirely  new,  full  of 
humor  and  sometimes  of  pathos. 

Several  times  the  General  made  a 
movement  to  depart,  fearing  he  was 
availing  himself  too  lavishly  of  Mr. 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.   67 

Lincoln's  affability,  but  each  time  was 
ordered  to  keep  his  seat,  the  President 
remarking  that  they  were  both  prisoners, 
and  he  hoped  the  General  would  take 
some  pity  upon  him  and  help  him  to 
talk  about  the  times  when  they  were 
both  their  own  masters,  and  had  n't 
everybody  criticising  and  abusing  them. 

Finally,  however,  General  Barringer 
arose,  and  was  bowing  himself  out, 
when  Mr.  Lincoln  once  more  took  him 
by  the  hand  almost  affectionately, 
placed  another  hand  upon  his  shoul- 
der, and  inquired  quite  seriously  : 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  be  of  any  ser- 
vice to  you  ? " 

Not  until,  we  had  all  finished  a  hearty 
laugh  at  this  quaint  remark  did  the 
President  realize  the  innocent  simplicity 
of  his  inquiry,  and  when  General  Bar- 
ringer  was  able  to  reply  that  "If  any- 
body can  be  of  service  to  a  poor  devil 
in  my  situation,  I  presume  you  are  the 
man,"  Mr.  Lincoln  drew  a  blank  card 
from  his  vest  pocket,  adjusted  his 
glasses,  turned  up  the  wick  of  the 


68    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

lamp,  and  sat  down  at  General  Bow- 
ers' desk  with  all  the  serious  earnest- 
ness with  which  you  would  suppose  he 
had  attached  his  name  to  the  emanci- 
pation proclamation. 

This  was,  however,  all  assumed.  He 
was  equipping  himself  and  preparing  us 
for  one  of  his  little  jokes.  While  writ- 
ing he  kept  up  a  running  conversation 
with  General  Barringer  (who  was  still 
standing  and  wondering)  to  this  ef- 
fect : 

"I  suppose  they  will  send  you  to 
Washington,  and  there  I  have  no  doubt 
they  will  put  you  in  the  old  Capitol 
prison.  I  am  told  it  is  n't  a  nice  sort  of 
a  place,  and  I  am  afraid  you  won't  find 
it  a  very  comfortable  tavern  ;  but  I 
have  a  powerful  friend  in  Washington 
— he  's  the  biggest  man  in  the  country, 
— and  I  believe  I  have  some  influence 
with  him  when  I  don't  ask  too  much. 
Now  I  want  you  to  send  this  card  of 
introduction  to  him,  and  if  he  takes 
the  notion  he  may  put  you  on  your 
parole,  or  let  up  on  you  that  way  or 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    69 

some  other  way.     Anyhow,  it  's  worth 
while  trying." 

And  then  very  deliberately  drying  the 
card  with  the  blotter,  he  held  it  up  to 
the  light  and  read  it  to  us  in  about  the 
following  words  : 

"  This  is  General  Barringer,  of  the 
Southern  army.  He  is  the  brother  of 
a  very  dear  friend  of  mine.  Can  you 
do  any  thing  to  make  his  detention  in 
Washington  as  comfortable  as  possible 
under  the  circumstances  ? 

"A.  LINCOLN. 

"  To  HON.  EDWIN  M.  STANTON, 
"  Secretary  of  War." 

Barringer  never  uttered  a  word.  I 
think  he  made  an  effort  to  say  "  Thank 
you,"  or  "  God  bless  you,"  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind,  but  he  was  speech- 
less. We  both  wheeled  about  and  left 
the  tent. 

After  walking  a  few  yards,  not  hear- 
ing any  footsteps  near  me,  and  fearing 
Barringer  had  lost  his  way,  I  turned 
back  and  found  this  gallant  leader  of 
brave  men,  who  had  won  his  stars  in  a 


Jo   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

score  of  battles,  "  like  Niobe,  all  tears," 
audibly  sobbing  and  terribly  overcome. 
He  took  my  arm,  and  as  we  walked 
slowly  home  he  gave  voice  to  as  hearty 
expressions  of  love  for  the  great  Lin- 
coln as  have  been  since  uttered  by  his 
most  devoted  and  life-long  friends. 

A  few  years  afterwards  I  met  the 
General  socially  in  Philadelphia,  and  we 
went  over  this  episode  in  his  life,  as  I 
have  narrated  it,  and  then,  for  the  third 
time,  his  eyes  filled  as  he  told  me  how 

r  he  had   wept  and  wept  at  "the   deep    » 

i  damnation  of  his  taking  off." 

The  "  bull  pen,"  of  which  I  have 
already  spoken,  was,  in  these  early 
days  of  April,  so  densely  packed  with 
prisoners  of  war  that  the  overflow 
were  permitted  to  sleep  outside  the 
enclosure.  Poor  fellows,  there  was 
little  danger  of  their  running  away. 
Such  a  mass  of  hungry,  unshaven, 
ragged,  and  forlorn  humanity  was 
never  seen  before,  and  will,  I  hope, 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    71 

never  again  be  seen  in  our  country. 
No  wonder  they  looked  tattered 
and  torn,  righting  for  days  in  the 
trenches,  then  driven  from  pillar  to 
post  and  hunted  down  till  they  fell 
by  the  road-side  from  sheer  exhaus- 
tion ;  then  captured  and  hurried  to 
City  Point,  several  miles  distant, 
through  rain  and  mud,  with  no 
shelter,  no  food,  no  any  thing,  save 
the  little  which  the  Union  soldier 
in  mercy  and  pity  could  spare  from 
his  own  scanty  supply.  In  the  "  bull 
pen,"  however,  they  had  plenty  of 
hot  real  coffee  (so  long  a  stranger  to 
their  lips),  and  good  fresh  bread  and 
meat,  and  after  a  day's  rest  they 
were  sent  by  the  boat-load  to  the 
North.  My  husband  did  his  best  to 
provide  comfortable  quarters  for  the 
Confederate  officers,  and  brought 
Generals  Ewell,  Barringer,  and  Cus- 
tis  Lee  to  our  own  little  house.  The 
two  former  dined  with  us  upon  their 


72    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

arrival,  but,  if  I  remember  rightly, 
the  latter  went  right  on  to  Washing- 
ton. It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to 
have  these  distinguished  men  as  my 
guests,  rebels  though  they  were,  and 
I  was  glad  to  have  it  in  my  power 
to  show  them  that  there  was  a  dis- 
position to  welcome  the  prodigals' 
return  with  the  fatted  calf.  Being 
quite  a  cordon  bleu  myself,  it  was 
not  difficult  to  present  an  attrac- 
tive menu,  consisting  of  superb  raw 
oysters,  green-turtle  soup,  a  delicious 
James-River  shad,  and  a  fillet  of 
army  beef.  A  bottle  of  whiskey  and 
another  of  brandy,  and  a  cup  of 
good  black  coffee  constituted  the 
dinner  which,  General  Barringer  was 
good  enough  to  say,  and  said  it  as  if 
he  meant  it,  was  the  first  square 
meal  he  had  eaten  in  two  years. 
The  General  was  a  charming  gentle- 
man, appreciative,  tolerant,  and  re- 
signed. General  Ewell  was  irritable, 


A  Woman 's  War  Record.    73 

disappointed,  and  disposed  to  be  out 
of  humor  with  every  thing  and  every- 
body ;  yet  who  could  blame  him  in 
that  hour  of  his  culminating  misfor- 
tunes. The  loss  of  a  leg  in  battle 
appealed  to  my  sympathy,  the  loss 
of  station,  fortune,  and  the  attain- 
ment of  his  ambition  made  me  par- 
don his  irascibility.  Among  other 
things,  he  could  not  understand  how 
a  Southern  woman  could  espouse  the 
Northern  cause  simply  because  she 
had  married  a  Northerner,  but  I 
forced  him  into  a  more  cheerful 
mood,  I  think,  when  I  told  him  that 
I  had  only  followed  the  example  of 
many  other  Southrons, — I  had  "  gone 
with  my  State,"  mine  being  the  state 
of  matrimony. 

General  Grant  at  this  time  was  in 
pursuit  of  Lee's  retreating  army,  and 
my  husband's  brigade  was  once  more 
ordered  on  the  march,  while  I,  with 
my  sick  child,  remained  at  City 


74   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

Point.  It  was  not  until  April  I4th 
that  I  considered  my  daughter  well 
enough  to  travel,  and  then,  without 
waiting  for  my  husband's  return 
from  Appomattox,  I  started  for  Phila- 
delphia, taking  a  steamboat  as  far  as 
Baltimore.  The  war  was  over ;  my 
husband  was  alive  and  well ;  my 
child  was  recovering ;  my  life  was 
brimful  of  gladness.  With  such 
happy  thoughts  and  in  such  a  mood 
I  reached  Baltimore,  when  I  gradu- 
ally became  sensible  of  an  abnormal 
condition  of  things,  which  indicated 
some  fresh  outbreak,  and  I  became 
alarmed.  People  were  hurrying 
through  the  streets,  groups  of  men 
and  women  were  engaged  in  eager 
discussion  ;  something  had  happened. 
There  were  no  cheers,  no  music  ;  it 
was  gloom !  There  had  been  a 
calamity.  What  was  it  ?  "  The  Presi- 
dent has  been  murdered,"  whispered 
my  orderly,  who  had  gone  for  infor- 


A  Woman  s  War  Record.    75 

mation,  "  and  nobody  can  go  North 
to-day."  Oh,  horror  !  I  had  learned 
to  love  Mr.  Lincoln  then,  as  younger 
people  to-day  love  to  read  about 
him.  I  had  seen  him  weep,  had 
heard  him  laugh,  had  been  gladdened 
by  his  wit  and  saddened  by  his 
pathos.  I  had  looked  up  to  him  as 
one  inspired.  How  glad  I  was  after- 
wards to  know  that  his  untimely 
death  was  the  act  of  a  mad  fanatic, 
and  that  my  people  who  had  fought 
a  desperate  but  unreasonable  war 
had  no  hand  in  it. 

When  I  could  collect  my  thoughts 
I  gathered  up  my  sick  child  and  the 
little  comforts  I  had  brought  with 
me  to  nourish  and  sustain  her  on  the 
journey,  and  took  myself  to  the 
nearest  hotel,  where  I  remained  until 
the  authorities  permitted  me  to  con- 
tinue on  my  way  the  next  morning. 
Later  I  was  among  the  sad  and 
silent  multitude  who  witnessed  the 


76    A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

passing  of  the  funeral  cortege  up 
Broad  Street,  in  Philadelphia.  There 
were  many  joys  in  my  life  then 
which  made  me  the  happiest  of 
women,  but  I  could  willingly  have 
sacrificed  some  of  them  to  bring  that 
best  of  the  very  best  back  again  into 
life. 

In  the  middle  of  May,  1865,  I  was 
once  more  in  camp,  this  time  at  Ar- 
lington Heights,  Va.,  and  witnessed 
the  magnificent  reviews  of  Meade's 
and  Sherman's  armies  on  Pennsyl- 
vania Avenue,  in  Washington.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  dashing  Cus- 
ter,  his  sombrero,  his  flowing  red 
scarf,  his  long  blond  hair, — the  beau 
ideal  oi  a  cavalry  leader,  as  his  charger 
reared  and  pranced  and  became  al- 
most unmanageable  ;  nor  am  I  likely 
to  forget  that,  for  a  better  view,  I 
was  lifted  above  the  crowd  by  the 
strong  arms  of  my  escort  (I  was  then 
quite  petite},  and  that  at  that  mo- 


A  Woman's  War  Record.    77 

ment  the  photograph  fiend  was  on 
hand  and  secured  the  lasting  evi- 
dence of  the  fact  that  I  was  in  the 
arms  of  a  stalwart  man  in  broad  day- 
light. 

The  continuous  columns  of  these 
martial  hosts,  their  victorious  cheers, 
their  well-worn  uniforms,  ribboned 
battle-flags,  fifes,  drums,  and  bands, 
seemed  to  give  utterance  to  but  a 
single  thought,  and  that  was :  "  This 
is  the  Northern  army  returning  from 
its  victory  over  the  South  "  ;  but  to- 
day, as  I  look  back  over  twenty  years 
of  peace  and  prosperity,  I  feel  that 
there  was  victory  for  the  South  in 
the  defeat.  It  cost  the  lives  of  many 
dear  ones,  but  this  was  the  only  loss. 
We  are  to-day  one  people — we  might 
have  been  a  dozen. 

During  this  four-years'  drama  I 
was  sometimes  in  the  audience,  often 
behind  the  scenes,  and  once  or  twice 
upon  the  stage  itself.  When  the 


78   A  Woman  s  War  Record. 

curtain  fell  at  last  I  did  not  appreci- 
ate the  awful  grandeur  and  moment 
of  the  events,  but  now  I  realize  that 
they  stamped  their  impression  upon 
my  young  life.  They  strengthened 
me  for  undertakings  for  which  I 
otherwise  would  have  lacked  nerve 
and  endurance,  and  they  gave  me  a 
fonder  longing  for  the  comforts  of 
Peace  than  is  entertained  by  those 
who  have  never  heard  the  wail  of 
woful  War. 

*  Generals  Rawlins,  Porter,  Badeau,  Dent, 
and  the  others  of  General  Grant's  staff  were  at 
the  front. 


THE  END. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


